Page 1 of A Dead End Fourth of July (Tiger’s Eye Mysteries #14)

Tess

Home in Dead End after two glorious weeks of honeymoon in Atlantis

Jack ended his call, looking thoughtful. Not "Oh, no, not another dead body, or mutant, magical zucchini, or gaggle of clowns with ukuleles," thoughtful, but definitely serious.

"What? And if it's something bad, don't tell me."

"I'm not sure if it's bad or not," he said slowly. "A friend needs help finding a missing family member and wants me to take the case."

"If you need anything from me, just let me know." Family was everything to me, and even more so now that Jack and I were married.

His vivid green eyes softened. "I know you will. You are possibly the kindest person I've ever met."

I rolled my eyes. "I already said I'd help. And I already married you. No need to keep buttering me up. Changing the subject, though, I don't want to go to work," I moaned, pulling the pillow over my head and burrowing under the covers on our new, ultra-king-sized bed.

My new husband was six feet, four inches tall, and he liked to stretch out.

"What are you giggling about under there?" Jack pulled the pillow away and kissed me.

"I don't giggle," I said loftily.

"You giggled several times during the past two weeks," he said, smug male satisfaction on his unfairly gorgeous face.

"Those don't count. Those were honeymoon giggles. Anyway, you laughed quite a lot yourself." I pushed his wavy bronze hair away from his face and kissed him back.

Jack stretched out next to me and petted my cat, Lou, who was curled up on the bed between us purring.

She'd forgiven us for leaving her with my Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby for two weeks, but it had taken quite a bit of groveling and fresh salmon.

Especially since my sister Shelley's pug puppy had tried to play with my poor cat.

"Aren't you opening the shop? Or are you starting your Mondays off today?"

I'd decided to close the shop on Mondays, too, instead of just Sundays, now that I had someone in my life—now that I had a life and not just a job.

But today was my first day back, and Eleanor, my favorite and only employee, was meeting me to talk about what had happened while I was gone.

She was a newlywed herself, but she'd been kind enough to run the shop while I was away.

"I can't. I'm meeting Eleanor at 8:00. I have to get out of here and pick up some thank-you donuts on the way."

"I like donuts."

I leaned over and kissed him, just because I could. Then, I pushed a lock of his silky hair off his forehead and smiled when he closed his eyes and made a purring sound of his own.

"You could be late," he said hopefully, reaching for me.

I laughed. "I can't. But I'll get some extra donuts for you."

Well.

Eleanor wouldn't mind if I were just a little late. I could blame Jack.

And honeymoon bliss.

When I walked into my shop at 8:20, a bag of donuts clutched in my hand, the apology I had planned to make died in my throat.

The shock killed it.

My incredibly neat, perfectly organized shop had disappeared, buried beneath a truckload of … stuff.

Eleanor rushed to meet me, a distressed look on her face. Eleanor was the girl next door once she grew up and became a grandma. She was smart, kind, and possibly the best negotiator on the planet. If she ever left Dead End, she could run the United Nations.

"Tess, I was hoping to catch you and tell you about this before you walked into the shop.

But then I got a phone call, and I had to answer it, because Bill's horrible grandson keeps doing awful things, and Bill keeps letting him get away with it, and he's probably going to end up in the hospital or in jail—the grandson, not Bill—at least, I hope not. And anyway, here you are."

I slowly turned my head to look at her but couldn't think of a single thing to say. I would probably get around to wondering what she meant about Bill and his grandson at some point, but I was still in shock at the state of my business.

Where there had been orderly rows and aisles, there were clusters and clumps of products I certainly had not written pawns on or purchased.

Some, luckily, were things I would have bought myself.

The taxidermied ferrets were adorable, and for some bizarre reason, we did a brisk business in taxidermied animals.

Eleanor had even set up a display of several of the little animals having a picnic on a blanket, with a few of them holding sparklers in their hands.

"You made a Fourth of July display," I said faintly. "It's—"

"I know. It's a lot. I was trying to be creative, and honestly, I was working out a lot of stress. Do you hate it? You hate it. I can take it down."

I laughed and hugged her, because she was someone I could hug without seeing her death. "No, I don't hate it. I think it's brilliant. Our customers will, too."

Relief swept over her face. "Oh, that's great to hear! And welcome home. How was the honeymoon?"

"It was wonderful. I imagine it's pretty hard to have a bad time in Atlantis," I said, smiling at her but still looking at the rest of the shop in muted disbelief.

We now had a corner filled with nothing but Halloween items. Granted, I took a lot of unusual supernatural items in on pawn and to sell, but I'd never thought to have a dedicated space for them before. Especially in July.

It actually looked pretty great, though.

"I really like what you did with the Halloween corner."

Eleanor, relaxing more and more, walked me through the shop and gave me a brief rundown on the purchases she'd made and the pawns she'd written up.

They were all sound business decisions, and she'd probably made more profit for the store than I would have, because she was a tougher bargainer.

The customers loved her though, and she never took advantage of that any more than I would.

"OK, let's have coffee and thank-you donuts, and you can tell me everything," I said.

"Also, you're getting a big bonus for this.

I appreciate so much that you worked so hard while I was gone.

You certainly didn't need to open the shop all those days, but I'm grateful for every minute.

I just hope Bill isn't mad at me for stealing you away from your own newly married bliss. "

The business had done well enough lately that I could afford to give her the bonus she deserved.

That hadn't always been the case. But ever since I had inherited the shop, I'd done my best to modernize it and make it profitable.

I had loved Jeremiah, Jack's uncle, like family, but he hadn't been the most business-minded person.

He'd been far more interested in his unusual collectibles.

"So, what's the problem with Bill and his grandson?"

She sighed. And then she took a second donut, which meant it was serious. "The problem is that Bill spoils that kid rotten. Oscar, bless his heart, is a total monster."

("Bless his heart," for the non-Southerner's edification, rarely actually means "bless his heart." It's more like a barely veiled insult clothed in false kindness. Example: "She actually thinks she looks good in that dress, bless her heart.")

"How old is he? Do he and Zane get along?" Her grandson Zane was my sister’s best friend.

"No, he's a couple of years older than Zane, and thinks he's too important to hang out with a ten-year-old."

I almost laughed, because the problem of an obnoxious twelve-year-old boy seemed so minor compared to what we'd been through in the past year and a half. But Eleanor really looked tired and stressed, so I tried to think of something helpful.

"Why don't you and Bill bring Oscar and Zane over for a barbecue this evening? I'll pick up Shelley, and we can throw the kids in the pool and let them burn off some energy."

"You don't have to do that! You and Jack just came home from your honeymoon, so you should have some time together."

"Right," I said dryly. "Like my family is going to let me get away with that. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Mike will be over like a shot when they hear we're back in town."

Eleanor raised her eyebrows. "You think they didn't know you were back in Dead End the minute you got here? You sadly underestimate your aunt—the mayor—and her spy network."

The chimes over the front door sounded, and I winced. "I forgot to lock the door when I came in. I was too distracted by the picnicking ferrets."

"Are you opening today? I thought we were going to be closed on Mondays."

"We will be. But since I'm here now, I may as well putter around and catch up on things. I've ordered a sign for the door with our new hours, but I still need to call the tour bus company and see if they can switch days with us."

The Golden Years Swamp Tours (GYST) bus stopped once a week on its way to take the nation’s grandparents on escape-the-rollercoasters-of-Orlando expeditions.

The day trips were very popular, and we had a deal with the owner to bring the passengers to Dead End Pawn to buy everything they never needed.

I definitely didn't want to give up that business.

We walked into the shop to see that we had a customer. He looked vaguely familiar, but I was pretty sure I didn't know him. That wasn't all that uncommon in Dead End, where folks had a lot of out-of-town relatives who came to visit.

Like my grandmother the banshee, for example.

I spared a thought to remind myself to call her, since I hadn’t heard from her for a while.

Leona Carstairs, my elegant grandmother I’d only recently met, was very busy as president of the North American organization for Banshee Rights.

Its acronym was NAbr, which made me grin, because few people throughout history would have wanted a banshee for a neighbor.

Anyway, back to business.

I smiled at the visitor. "Hello. Can I help you? Or are you just browsing?"

Behind me, Eleanor gasped.